Beauty and the Beast
by thehistorygeek
Summary: A Harvest Moon look on the classic tale of inner beauty and seeing beyond appearances.
1. Prologue

**Yayyy for stories based off of Disney movies based off of books written by other people! :D **

**This chapter's really short because it's just a prologue but... Prologue's are important, right? :3**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon, any of its characters, or Beauty and the Beast. I just combined the two in a hopefully awesome way. **

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince who lived in a magnificent castle. The prince had everything his heart desired, and more, yet he was unkind and selfish.

One cold, dark night, an ugly old beggar woman came to the castle and asked to stay there overnight. The prince asked why he should do so, and the old woman pulled out a rose. Repulsed by her appearance and petty gift, the prince turned the woman away.

"Do not be fooled by appearances," she warned, yet he still turned her away.

Suddenly, the old woman turned into a beautiful Enchantress. The prince begged for forgiveness from her, but what's done was done: she had seen there was no kindness or love in him. So she turned the prince into a hideous beast, and placed a curse upon the castle and everyone in it.

The Beast shut himself away from everyone, with only a small mirror to look out into the world.

The rose, however, turned out to be an enchanted rose. It would bloom until his twenty-first birthday, and if the Beast did not learn to love, and be loved, by then, he would stay a Beast…

Forever.


	2. Chelsea

**This is probably going to be one of shortest chapters in this story; I have seven planned out. :)**

**A few sentences in this chapter are from a song in the Disney movie "Beauty and the Beast". A cookie to the person who tells me which song they're from, and which lines they are. :D**

**Chelsea's the only actual Harvest Moon character in this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon, any of its characters, or "Beauty and the Beast".**

Chelsea

Chelsea strolled through the village, her basket perched carefully on the crook of her arm. She was wearing a white blouse underneath of an orange dress, a white apron tied around her waist, and her long chestnut hair tied back with a red ribbon. She was heading to the bookstore; she had already finished the four books she had borrowed last week.

The townspeople bustled on around her, calling their "hellos" and "good mornings" to each other. Chelsea thought of how plain the village was; it was the same every morning. Everyone would greet each other as if they'd never done it before, and get on with their routines like they were brand new.

_There goes the baker with his tray, like always,_ she thought, watching the local baker walk around town, carrying a tray covered in baked goods to sell. _The same old bread and rolls to sell._

Chelsea sighed and continued walking on, watching the villagers silently.

"_Bonjour_," said the man who sold cloth to a woman standing in front of his stall.

"Good day," the woman replied, nodding her head curtly.

"How is your family?" the man asked.

At the meat stand, a woman was talking to the man standing behind it.

"_Bonjour_," she said, examining a piece of meat hanging from the stand roof.

"Good day," the man replied.

"How is your wife?" the woman asked, before strolling off.

"I need six eggs," another woman was saying to the egg vendor.

"That's too expensive," the vendor said, shaking his head and shrugging.

Chelsea rolled her eyes at how similar the conversations sounded to yesterday's. There was never any change.

_I'm going to get out of here someday,_ Chelsea vowed silently to herself. _I want so much more than this provincial life._

She had arrived at the bookstore, and was pushing open the door. Inside, the bookseller was carefully replacing a stack of books onto a shelf.

"Good morning, Chelsea," he greeted to her, smiling.

"_Bonjour_, Monsieur Rousseau," Chelsea greeted, looking around for the right place for her books.

"Finished those books already?" Monsieur Rousseau asked, looking at her, surprised.

"Of course," Chelsea said, slipping one of the books onto a shelf. "I couldn't stop reading since I borrowed them."

Monsieur Rousseau chuckled, and went on shelving the books in front of him.

Once all of her books were in their proper place, Chelsea started looking for some new ones to borrow. It took her a while, as she had read nearly all of the books in there. But she eventually found two that she hadn't. After checking them out, she left the bookstore and started home.

Just near the edge of the village, close to where Chelsea lived with her father, Mark was waiting. He was the supposed town hero, but Chelsea saw him as nothing but arrogant and brainless.

"Hello, Chelsea," he said pompously as she approached.

"Goodbye, Mark," Chelsea replied, continuing on her way without even glancing at him.

"Hey, hey, where are you going?" Mark asked, quickly catching up to her.

"Away from you," Chelsea said irritably without stopping.

"Why?" Mark questioned, walking in pace with her.

"Because I don't _like _you, Mark," Chelsea snapped, stopping and glaring at him. "You may think that's impossible, but I actually _despise_ you. So go annoy some other girl."

"But what if I don't want to?" Mark asked, still keeping pace with Chelsea as she started walking again. "All the other girls in this town are so... plain and boring. But not you, Chelsea. You're... different. And you're the only person in this town as beautiful as me." He smiled arrogantly at Chelsea.

She just rolled her eyes and groaned, walking faster than before.

"Come on, Chelsea!" Mark said, now almost running to keep up with her. "Why don't we grab some lunch together?"

"Goodbye, Mark," Chelsea said as she came to a stop in front of her front door. She opened it and hastily ducked inside before Mark could say anything more.

"How was town, Chelsea?"

Chelsea turned to look at her father, Laurent. He was sitting at his desk in front of the family's old typewriter.

"It was good, Papa," Chelsea said, placing her basket down on the table and going over to where her father was. "Except I ran into that arrogant beast, Mark, on the way home. But anyways, how is the book coming along?"

"Wonderfully!" Laurent said, beaming happily. "I think I finally have got an idea for the ending; do you want to hear it?"

"Of course!" Chelsea said, pulling a chair up beside her father. Laurent plucked the paper from the typewriter and, clearing his throat, began reading from it.

"'The prince kissed his beautiful bride, unknowing that it was not she who had saved his life, but another: another with long golden hair that shined in the sunlight and had worked in the kitchen as a chambermaid, but now lay dead in her room, heartbroken.'"

Chelsea paused a while to think over what her father had just read.

"Oh, it's wonderful, Papa!" she cried eventually, clasping her hands together. "It's so... so... original and beautiful! I love it!"

"Thank you, _mon chérie_," Laurent said, smiling and hugging his daughter. "Then it's done! My book is finally finished!"

"This is fantastic!" Chelsea exclaimed, kissing her father's cheek. "When are you going to Paris to see an editor and printer?"

"I think I'll leave this afternoon," Laurent said, gathering the many pages of his new book and making sure they were in order. "In say... two hours." He strung a thick piece of thread through the pages so they stayed together, and carefully slipped them in his satchel.

Two hours later, Laurent was preparing his horse, Gustave, for the journey to Paris. He had his satchel slung across his shoulder, with everything he would need in it.

"Goodbye, Chelsea!" he called, climbing onto the horse. "I should be back by nightfall in two days!"

"Goodbye, Papa!" Chelsea cried, waving to her father as he and Gustave trotted away, towards Paris.

They travelled through the countryside, past farms and rivers and forests. After a few hours, the sky had turned a pale orange colour and the remaining clouds were a pale pinkish colour.

A bit confused, Laurent checked the map he had brought again. "That's odd..." he said, squinting at the map. "We should be able to see the city by now..."

But instead of Paris, all they saw was a big empty field around them and a dark, creepy-looking forest ahead of them.

"Maybe it's beyond this forest." Laurent concluded, putting his map away. "It must be."

Gustave snorted, and tried to turn around.

"No, no, Gustave," Laurent said, keeping the horse going towards the forest. "We couldn't have made a wrong turn. I double-checked each one we took."

The horse grunted angrily, but kept trotting towards the dark woods. They were soon consumed by the tall, grey trees. It was as dark as night in the forest, even though the sun was still in the sky; all the branches obscured the sunlight. Most of the trees were leaf-less and dying. The only animals that were visible were scurrying rats and the occasional owl.

Laurent looked around, somewhat scared. Where were they? Surely, they couldn't have gotten lost!

Suddenly, a loud howl sounded in the distance.

"W-Wolves!" Laurent stuttered, leaning closer to Gustave's head. "There can't be wolves here, could there, Gustave?"

Obviously, the horse didn't answer; he just kept walking along the dirt path in front of him.

Eventually, they came to a fork in the road. There was a post in the middle of the fork with several signs on them, but it was impossible to read what they said. Laurent pulled out his map again and tried to figure out which way to go.

While he was doing that, Gustave started slowly walking towards the right path, which was a lot brighter and more cheerful-looking than the left path.

"Stop, Gustave," Laurent said, guiding the horse back towards the left. "I think we go this way."

Gustave neighed and shook his head, going back towards the right.

"Gustave!" Laurent said, pointing the horse back towards the left. "Stop it! We're going this way."

But instead of going left, the horse continued to try and go right.

"Gusta-!"

Laurent's voice was lost in a loud howl that had erupted only a few feet away. Gustave neighed loudly, and, scared, started running quickly along the left path.

"Slow! Down!" Laurent cried between being nearly thrown off the horse's saddle as he ran along the bumpy path.

But Gustave kept going. Laurent couldn't actually blame the horse for wanting to get away; it seemed as if the howls were following them. He looked to the left and right, and saw several pairs of yellow eyes watching him. Screaming, he tried to make Gustave go faster, but the horse was going as fast he could.

Almost out of nowhere, however, the forest ended and the path ended at a cliff. Laurent screamed again and tried to make Gustave slow down. The horse skidded to a stop right before the cliff.

A lightning bolt flashed across the sky, and it began to pour rain. At least half a dozen wolves slowly crept out of the forest, growling at Laurent and Gustave. Gustave, frightened by the sight of the wolves, kicked back on his back legs, throwing Laurent off. The horse then ran away, back into the forest. Most of the wolves followed him, but some stayed behind, still growling at Laurent.

"Gustave!" Laurent called, eyeing the wolves nervously. "Gustave!"

But the horse didn't come back. Shakily, Laurent got to his feet, the wolves watching his every move. All of a sudden, they were running towards him. Laurent screamed and started running away, crashing through the trees. The wolves followed him.

As he ran, a huge, wrought-iron gate appeared out of the forest, with a long, tall brick wall on either side of it. Laurent ran towards the gate and began shaking them, trying to get in.

"Help! Help!" he cried, but the gates wouldn't budge.

**Dun, dun, DUNNN! D:**


	3. The Castle

**Hello! :D Sorry if anyone seems a bit OOC in this chapter; I tried my best. ^.^;**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon, any of its characters, or "Beauty and the Beast".**

**P.S. If anyone doesn't know what a candelabrum is, it's the singular form of "candelabra". **

The Castle

Pushing harder, Laurent screamed to be let in as the wolves closed in on him. Suddenly, the gates swung open just as one of the wolves was about to bite his foot. Laurent quickly stumbled through the gates, and slammed them shut before the wolves could get in.

Sighing a breath of relief, he turned away from the gates and snarling wolves. His mouth opened in awe as he started up at the grand castle set before him. It was breathtaking and elegant, if not a little eerie.

Laurent took a small, unsure step forward; a strong gust of wind blew his hat off, but he didn't bother to pick it up. He continued on towards the castle, wrapping his cloak tighter around him against the beating rain as he went.

A large stone bridge separated the castle from the gate. It ran over a swift-moving river that led to what looked like a waterfall. Laurent carefully walked across as if each step might make the structure crumble.

The great oaken front doors of the castle were much easier to open then the gate; it was as if someone had left them like that just for him. It was dark and rather chilly inside the entrance hall. No one could be seen, and the only light came from a small candelabrum resting on a spindly-legged table beside an old dusty clock.

"Hello?" Laurent called out, his voice echoing around the hall. "Is anyone here?"

He could have sworn her heard voices; they were quiet, whispering voices, but voices all the same.

"Who's there?" Laurent called, looking around wildly for the source of the voices.

"He must have lost his way," one voice was saying. It sounded rather unsure of itself, like it was used to being bossed around. "What should we do?"

"Just stay quiet and be very still," another voice said. It sounded much older than the first voice, and had a commanding tone to it. "Don't do anything."

They sounded as if they were coming from the table with the candelabrum and clock.

"Show yourself!" Laurent called, still looking around for whoever was talking.

"Well, me must do something!" the first voice said quietly. "What if the master hears him?"

"Stay where you are, Elliot, I'm warning you!" the second voice said.

"Why are you hiding?" Lauren asked, getting a little frightened.

"Oh, I can't take it anymore!" the first voice cried. "Hello, monsieur!"

"What?" Laurent said, spinning around and grabbing the candelabrum. He shined it around the room, as if expecting the speaker to be hiding in the shadows. "Where are you?"

"Over here, monsieur," the candelabrum said suddenly, and Laurent whirled around.

"Where?"

The candelabrum gently tapped Laurent on the head. Laurent looked up at the candelabrum, who smiled at him.

"_Bonjour_," it greeted.

Laurent screamed and dropped the candelabrum on the floor.

"Oh, now you've done it!" the clock scolded, jumping down from the table. "I told you not to do anything! But did you listen? Of course not! No one ever listens to me anymore..."

"Wh-What?" Laurent stammered, staring at the arguing objects. "How is this _possible_? Was it you two all along?"

The candelabrum and clock ignored him and kept on fighting. The former was a small, wiry thing with three candle holders; the candle in the middle was much taller than the ones on the left and right holders, and had a small face in it. The left and right holders seemed to act as arms, as the candelabrum was waving them around as he argued with the clock. It also looked like he had a pair of glasses perched on his wax nose.

The clock looked rather old and weather; he was rusty in several places, and the wood was scratched and chipped. There was also a rather large crack in the glass that covered his pendulum. It seemed as if he had a large, bushy moustache, as well.

"Well, this is terrible, just terrible!" the clock concluded, crossing his rusty brass arms. "You know what the master would do if he found this man here! He must leave at once!"

"He can't leave!" the candelabrum cried. "It's pouring rain outside! And there are wolves!"

"He can't stay here, and you very well know that, Elliot!" the clock said crossly.

The candelabrum shook his head and looked up Laurent.

"_Bonjour_, monsieur," he said again, bowing. "I'm Elliot, and that old clock over there is my grandfather, Taro."

"G-Grandfather?" Laurent stuttered, alarmed. "How can he be your _grandfather_? How can you even talk?"

"Ah, never mind that," Elliot, shaking his head. "Come into the parlour; you must be freezing."

"Oh, well, yes, I am, thank you," Laurent said, a bit uncertainly, following Elliot into the parlour.

"Oh no, oh no!" Taro said angrily, looking nervously around the castle. "The master is _not_ going to be happy about this!"

Elliot ignored his grandfather, and led Laurent to a large, comfortable chair in front of a blazing fire.

"Elliot!" Taro bellowed, storming in after them. "I demand that you stop at once! This could be disastrous for _everyone_ if the master finds out!"

"But we can't just turn him out!" Elliot argued. "That'd be terrible!"

"Hello, dears,"

Suddenly, a cart had wheeled in beside Laurent. A teapot sat on the cart, with a small teacup, a milk container, and a sugar container. The teapot had a face someone might expect to find on a sweet old grandmother; it was old-looking, but not as old as Taro. The teacup had a young, boyish face and a small chip on his rim. The milk and sugar containers, however, didn't have any faces.

"I'm Mrs. Yolanda," the teapot introduced, giving Laurent a warm smile. "Would you like some tea?"

"Oh yes, I would, thank you very much," Laurent said, grinning at the teapot; he was started to get used to these talking objects.

Mrs. Yolanda poured some of the hot tea inside of her into the little teacup, who giggled.

"I'm Taylour," he said as Laurent picked him up. "What's your name?"

Laurent smiled and chuckled at the teacup. "I'm Laurent," he said, taking a sip.

"Well, then, hello, Laurent," Mrs. Yolanda said, nodding at him.

"Ugh, this is absolutely _terrible_!" Taro cried, jumping up and down like a child. "How did you even know he was _here_, Mrs. Yolanda? You _know_ what the master will do if he finds this man here!"

"Oh, relax, Taro, the master isn't—" Mrs. Yolanda began, but she was cut off by the fire suddenly going out.

A deep, angry breathing that almost sounded like a growl had started behind Laurent. Taylour quickly jumped out of Laurent's hands and cowered behind Mrs. Yolanda, who then shied away from Laurent. Elliot scurried beneath the carpet like a rat, his eyes just peeking over the top.

Taro glared at Mrs. Yolanda and motioned to something behind the chair Laurent was in, as if proving a point.

Laurent, frightened, looked around the room for the source of the breathing and fear within the talking objects. All of a sudden, he was face-to-face with a hideous beast. He had a huge horned head covered in what looked like a lion's mane, a large mouth full of razor-sharp teeth and a pair of tusks, what seemed to be the arms and paws of a bear with the legs and tail of a wolf. His eyes, however, were human, and were an icy violet colour.

Laurent screamed and fell out of the chair, scrambling on the floor to get up.

"Why are you here?" the Beast snarled, glaring at the old man with his violent purple eyes. "You are not welcome!"

"I-I'm sorry," Laurent stammered, getting to his feet and backing away from the Beast, out of the parlour. "I... I... I..."

"You what?" the Beast said, slowly following Laurent. "Come to stare at the Beast?"

"N-No, not at all!" Laurent cried, stumbling into the entrance hall. "I-I didn't mean to offend anyone; a-at all! I just needed a place to stay!"

"Well I'll give you a place to stay!" the Beast cried and, grabbing Laurent, he rushed away.

...o...

The next morning, back at the village, Mark was standing outside of Chelsea's house, dressed in his best clothes with a band behind him.

"Ok," Mark said, turning towards the small, wiry conductor of the band. "You tell the band to start playing when Chelsea and I come out."

The conductor nodded, and turned towards his band, ready.

Mark spun around on the heel of his polished tall black boots, and strode towards the front of the small house. Grinning arrogantly, he knocked twice and waited for Chelsea to answer.

Inside, Chelsea was sitting comfortably at her father's writing desk reading. At the sound of a knock, she got up, still carrying the book, and peeked out the window to see who it was.

At the sight of Mark standing at her door grinning like he was a king, Chelsea groaned and rolled her eyes, but still opened the door.

"Hello, Chelsea," Mark said, strutting into the house as if he owned the place. "How are you today?"

"I was fine," Chelsea said, putting her book down and putting her hands on her hips. "Until _you_ should up."

"Now, now, Chelsea," Mark said distractedly, looking around her house. "Do you really need to talk like that?"

"Yes," Chelsea said bluntly.

Mark just chuckled and shook his head.

"Well, are you going to tell me what you're here for or what?" Chelsea said after a few moments, impatient to throw him out.

"Ah, yes, of course," Mark said, turning to face her and nodding his head. "Chelsea, I was wondering if you'd do me the honour of becoming my wife."

Chelsea stared at Mark for a second, a disgusted look on her face. "Really?" she asked, obvious distaste in her voice.

"Really," Mark repeated, smiling happily.

Chelsea thought for a moment. Her, married to Mark? That egotistic creep? "No thanks," she said, backing towards the door.

"Come on, Chelsea!" Mark said, following her. "You and I both know we're the best-looking people in town! We'd make the perfect couple!"

"Except... I don't like you," Chelsea said, her hand reaching for the doorknob as Mark leaned over her. "At all."

Before he could say anything else, Chelsea was turning the doorknob and ducking out of the way as Mark went flying out the door. She quickly closed the door before he could get up, locked it and closed all the curtains.

As Mark fell onto the front step, the conductor, believing that he was with Chelsea, started up the band. It took him a few seconds to realize that Mark was alone, and lying face-first on Chelsea's step.

Back in her house, Chelsea waited a while before checking out the window to see if Mark had gone. When she saw he had, she sighed with relief, and grabbed a pail of chicken food before heading outside.

"Can you believe him?" she asked herself angrily, throwing food into the pen where she and her father kept their chickens. "He asked me to marry him! Me, of all people!"

She lazily dumped the entire contents of the pail into the pen, and watched the chickens flock towards the food for a few seconds before turning and walking towards the field that rested behind the house. It was a large, lush field full of blowing dandelions and beautiful flowers.

"Well, no sir, not me!" Chelsea cried, walking through the field, brushing her fingertips along the flowers and grass. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere! I want it more than I can tell..."

She fell into the grass, sighing deeply, and lay there for a while, watching the wind caress a dandelion until it let its seeds fly away.

Suddenly, there was a loud _crash_ and Chelsea turned to see Gustave racing out of the forest and into the field.

"Gustave!" she exclaimed, getting up and going over to the horse. "Calm down! What is it; where's Papa?"

She looked expectantly to the forest, as if to see her father walking out of it, grinning. But when nothing happened, Chelsea turned back to the horse.

"We have to go find him!" she announced running back towards the house. "He could be hurt!"

She grabbed what she thought she might need: food, a map, extra clothes; and stuffed it all into a satchel. She then grabbed her cloak off the hook by the door, and wrapping it around herself, rushed back outside, clutching the satchel to her side.

"Come on, Gustave!" she cried, jumping onto the horse. "We need to go find Papa!"


	4. Prisoner

**Hi. :) Uh... I really don't have anything to say. ^.^;**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon, any of its characters, or Disney's Beauty and the Beast. **

Prisoner

Chelsea and Gustave rode through the forest as fast as they could, Chelsea closely following the same route her father usually took on his way to Paris. As she prepared to make a left turn when they passed the LaRose family farm, however, Gustave kept trying to go straight.

"Gustave!" Chelsea scolded, frustrated with how uncooperative the horse was being. "We have to go _left_! That's the way to Paris!"

Gustave just shook his head, and kept trying to go straight.

"Why do you want to go straight?" Chelsea asked, pulling hard against the reins to make him go left. "That isn't the right way!"

Gustave neighed loudly, and with a spurt of sudden energy, began running straight.

"Gustave!" Chelsea screamed, alarmed at the sudden quick movement as she nearly fell off the horse. "Stop! Stop!"

Of course, Gustave didn't listen and kept running until he reaches the large, grassy field with spooky-looking forest on the other side of it.

"Gustave, is this the way that you and Papa went?" Chelsea asked, leaning into the horse's neck.

He neighed and started running again, across the wide field towards the forest.

Once they reached the edge where the field disappeared and the trees started, Gustave began to trot along a thin dirt path covered in roots and rocks. The two travelled along the path until the same fork in the road that Laurent and Gustave had just the day before.

Staring up at the unreadable signs, Chelsea asked the horse, "Which way did you go after this?"

Doubting the horse would understand her, she was surprised when he started walking off to the right.

"I wonder where Papa could be..." Chelsea wondered, looking around for any sign of movement or life.

The sun was starting to set, and the cover of the trees only made it darker. Chelsea was finding it harder and harder to see where she was going and what she was looking at.

Suddenly, the trees seemed to shrink away and a huge wrought-iron gate appeared. Chelsea brought Gustave to a stop, and stared up at the gate and the brick wall that ran off both sides of it.

"Do you think Papa went in here?" she asked to no one in particular. Without hesitating, she jumped off Gustave and walked up to the gate.

It took a while for Chelsea to push the gate open, and when she did, she stared up at the castle set before her in awe. It was magnificent and absolutely gorgeous, despite the eerie haunted feeling it gave off.

"Look at this place, Gustave!" she exclaimed, grabbing the horse's reins and pulling him through the gate with her. "Papa could be inside! Do you think anyone lives there? It doesn't look like it..."

Leading Gustave across the large stone bridge, she didn't pay attention to the fast rushing river that it crossed; Chelsea couldn't take her eyes off the castle. When she reached the large front doors, they pushed open easily. Making sure Gustave was tied tightly to one of the door handles, she walked inside.

The entrance hall was just as grand as the outside of the castle; a huge staircase stood at the end, and a large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.

"Papa?" Chelsea called softly, looking around the hall. "Papa, are you here?"

No one answered; it was completely silent.

Upstairs in the kitchen, however, it was a totally different story. There was noise everywhere; talking, clanking, bubbling.

"Oh, it really is a sin, what happened to that poor old man, Laurent," Mrs. Yolanda was saying as she supervised some dishes washes themselves.

"Yes, yes it is," said the stove, who was cooking and baking several different things at once.

"And how Taro blames Elliot is just terrible..." Mrs. Yolanda continued, giving a plate that had gotten out of the tub still dirty an evil eye.

"_Oui_, _oui_," the stove said, distracted by the three pots he was boiling.

"I just hope-." The teapot was cut off by Taylour hopping into the room.

"Mama! Mama!" he cried, jumping up and down in front of Mrs. Yolanda. "There's a _girl_ in the castle! I saw her! I saw her!"

"Oh, Taylour, there isn't anybody in the castle," Mrs. Yolanda said, chuckling at her son's story. "Now into the tub with you."

She nudged him towards the tub of soapy water.

"But it's true, Mama!" Taylour protested as he tumbled into the tub. "I saw her! I really did!"

"Oh, Taylour, enough with your tall tales!" Mrs. Yolanda scolded.

Suddenly, a feather duster was rushing into the kitchen.

"A girl! A girl!" she exclaimed gleefully. "There's a girl in the castle!"

"See?" Taylour said matter-of-factly, diving into the water.

Just outside the kitchen, Taro and Elliot were standing on a table, arguing.

"What happened to that man is all your fault!" Taro was saying, pacing around his grandson on the table. "I _told_ you not to talk to him, and what do you do? You _talk_ to him!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Elliot said. "But if I hadn't done what I did, the master would have found him and it would have just turned out _worse_!"

"For him, yes, but not for us!" Taro yelled, jumping like a child throwing a tantrum. "We would have gotten off just fine!"

"That's really selfish, you know!" Elliot said, shocked at himself for being so bold. And to his grandfather, none the least!

"I don—!"

But a voice, a new voice they Elliot and Taro had never heard before, cut across the old clock. All of a sudden, a girl, no older than eighteen, was walking in front of them, calling for someone.

"Papa?" she called, looking around. "Papa?"

Taro looked at Elliot, and putting a finger to his lips, motioned for the candelabrum to follow him. Taro quietly walked off after the girl, making sure he nor Elliot was seen.

"Hello?" she called. "Papa, are you here?"

"Hey!" Elliot whispered, poking his grandfather.

"What?" Taro whispered, annoyed.

"Do you think maybe her father is the old man?" he suggested, looking incredulously at the girl.

"What, no, of course I-."

But Elliot was already hopping off towards the girl.

"Elliot!" Taro called quietly, hoping that the girl wouldn't hear him. "Elliot, come back here this instant!"

The candelabrum ignored his grandfather, and instead hopped quietly past the girl, towards the dungeon door.

Chelsea, who thought she heard someone talking and something moving, looked around the dark castle. But she couldn't see anything or anyone. Suddenly, however, a wooden door just ahead of her was creaking open, as if somebody was pushing it.

"Hello?" she called out softly, scared. "Who's there?"

Slowly, Chelsea walked towards the open door and poked her head inside. There were no people inside the doorway, which led up a long set of winding stone steps. A gentle light was shining a few steps up, but it quickly disappeared.

Chelsea gasped, and hurried up the stairs after the light.

"Hey!" she called. "Where are you? Come back!"

She soon caught up to the shining light, but there wasn't anybody there; just a candelabrum, whose tallest candle eerily resembled a face.

"That's strange," Chelsea said, gazing around the staircase. "I could have sworn there was somebody up here..."

But before she could ponder over the subject any more, she heard a voice. It was a quiet voice which sounded injured and weak.

"H-Hello?" it was calling. "W-Who's there?"

Chelsea gasped again, and ran up the rest of the stairs, pushing open the door at the top. Behind the door was a large room filled with wooden doors that had small rectangular holes near the bottom covered in metal bars. In one of the rooms a man was pressing his face against the metal bars, his arm hanging out of it.

"Papa!" Chelsea cried, rushing forward towards the man. "Oh, Papa, what happened to you?"

"Chelsea," Laurent rasped, grabbing his daughter's arm. "Chelsea... You need to get out of here! Quickly!"

"Why? I can't leave you here!" Chelsea exclaimed as her father let out a shaking cough. "You're too sick!"

"There's no time to explain! You need to get out of here!" Laurent said, ignoring Chelsea's pleas. "Now!"

"Papa, I-."

But before Chelsea could answer, someone had grabbed the back of her cloak and was pulling her away from her father. They then threw her back on the ground so that she was facing her.

Looking up into the face of the person who had attacked her, Chelsea let a small scream, but quickly covered her mouth.

The Beast glared down at her, anger visible on every feature of his terrifying face.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he snarled.

"I-I was looking for my father," Chelsea stammered, sliding backwards while still facing the Beast, until she hit the wall beside her father's cell. His icy purple eyes sliced at her, and she felt that if she told a lie he would know. "I-I'm sorry."

The Beast didn't say anything, but continued to look down at her.

"P-Please, can you let him go?" Chelsea begged, clasping her hands in front of her as if she were praying. "He's really sick, and... and he could die!"

"I don't care," the Beast growled, turning his back on Chelsea and Laurent. "He should not have trespassed, and neither should you!"

Chelsea bit her lip, thinking. She needed to save her father, before it was too late.

"Take me instead!" she cried, falling forward onto her hands and knees.

"Chelsea, no!" Laurent cried, but his daughter ignored him.

"What?" the Beast asked, turning to face Chelsea again. There was a tiny glint of hope and shock in his eyes, but it was quickly gone before Chelsea could notice it.

"Let my father go, and take me instead," she repeated, lifting her hands off the cold stone ground.

The Beast thought for a moment. If the girl stayed in place of her father then... there could be hope of breaking the spell!

"Fine," he said, swiftly unlocking Laurent's cell door. Before Chelsea could speak to her father, however, the Beast had grabbed Laurent by the back of his shirt and was carrying him out of the tower, towards the front door. Once outside, he roughly threw the old man into an old carriage, slamming the door behind him.

"Take him to the village," he ordered gruffly. The carriage suddenly came to life, and carried Laurent away from the castle, and Chelsea.

Back in the tower, Chelsea had rushed towards the nearest window and was watching the carriage wheel her father away, sobbing.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye..." she said softly when the Beast appeared behind her.

A little guilty, the Beast looked uncomfortably at the floor, but quickly regained himself.

"Come on," he said, grabbing the candelabrum Chelsea had seen on the stairs. "I'll show you to your room."

The brunette nodded meekly, and slowly followed the Beast out of the dungeons and through the castle hallways. She kept having the strangest feeling she was being watched, but blamed it on the creepy gargoyles, statues, and paintings that decorated the castle. They depicted monsters; hideous, vile creatures that stared down at you with malicious and deceitful eyes.

"You can go anywhere you want in the castle," the Beast said, somewhat awkwardly, as they walked on. "Except the West Wing; that is forbidden."

"Why is it-?" Chelsea began, but the Beast cut her off.

"It is forbidden." He said sharply, glaring at her.

"Don't be so mean."

The face on the candelabrum had suddenly started talking, but Chelsea was too busy staring horror-struck at a mural showing a group of half a dozen vicious creatures attacking a human.

"But-." The Beast started angrily.

"Kindness," the candelabrum said, cutting across him. "Be kind to her."

The Beast sighed heavily, and, a bit relunctantly, looked over his shoulder at Chelsea and muttered, "I'm sorry..."

Chelsea looked up, startled.

"O-Oh," she said after realizing it was the Beast who had spoken to her and not anyone else. "Thank you..." She looked silently at her hands and walked on.

They soon reached a pair of grand pale wood doors with elaborate gold decorations winding all around the edges and on the handles. The decorations were of twisting vines with sparkling leaves and roses with sharp, thorny stems.

Chelsea hesitantly grabbed one of the handles and slowly pushed it open. When she turned to look at the Beast, she saw that he had gone.

She looked down the hallway both ways and, after making sure he wasn't around anywhere, ran into the room, closing the door behind her and looking it. She then threw herself onto the large king-sized four-poster bed, and sobbed herself to sleep.

**:c**

**In case you, for some reason, didn't figure it out, the candelabrum talking to the Beast is Elliot. Yeah. ^.^**


End file.
